


Alone

by ablackberrywinter



Category: The Book Thief - Markus Zusak
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablackberrywinter/pseuds/ablackberrywinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max is alone. He is dealing with the horrors of his past. He needs someone to help him. A prequel to "The Letter".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Letter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088136) by [ablackberrywinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablackberrywinter/pseuds/ablackberrywinter). 



Max woke up in a cold sweat. He could still hearing the crying, the shouting. He could smell the stench as though he were still there.   
He willed himself to not think about it, but the memories came flooding back. He began to sob silently, alone. He felt despair once more.  
He was awake now, he could hear the sounds of the birds outside, singing their song. The world was still moving. It was so unbelievable to Max.   
To think that the world continued. 

He looked around his small room, searching for something to stop him from remembering. His nightmares hadn't stopped. He feared they never would.   
That each night he laid down to sleep, he would be back there. The place of horrors, where monsters ruled and death lived.

Swallowing, he felt his throat was dry. "I need water", He said to nobody at all. He stumbled out into the small kitchen.   
The place wasn't very big, but it suited Max. He drained a glass of water quickly. And then he saw it.   
A newspaper article he'd cut out. Liesel was smiling at him from a grainy photo. She'd won some sort of writing prize, and it had been written up in the paper.   
Max had cried when he read the piece. He looked around his home. It felt oppressive. He needed a walk.

He pulled on a coat over his pyjamas, and opened the door. The air was chilly, but Max didn't care. Walking down the cobbled street, nothing was lit up. Max moved silently in the dark as he had many times before, passing the closed, dark shops as he went. He looked at the stars, they shone brightly upon his face. The night was still. Max had walked further than he'd intended. He turned around to head home. The walk had cleared his mind, which helped on the bad days. 

Max opened his door. There was no one there to greet him.   
"I should get a dog." Max said out loud. Mostly to hear his own voice. He sat down on the threadbare lounge he owned. He didn't have much, but what he did have felt like home to him. 

On the small table in front of him was a notepad and a pen. He picked it up, thinking he could write his feelings down. Maybe make a story out of it.  
But then he found himself writing a letter to Liesel. He would go to Australia and see her once more. The idea had come suddenly, but the more Max thought about it, the more sense it made. He could see Liesel again.

"Dear Liesel...."


End file.
